Moirae
by Lylyla1
Summary: During a time of despair when all hope seems to be lost for the Light, the four founders fall from the past right into the midst the war. Warnings: Still searching for Beta. AU. Possible SLASH.
1. Arrival

Author's Note

Disclaimer: I have no rights to steal these characters for my own amusement, and I am not making any dough out of them. I have had this plot bunny bouncing around my head for a few years, and I hope that no one is offended (I especially hope that no one is offended enough to sue).

Summary: "During a time of despair when all hope seems to be lost for the Light, the four founders fall from the past right into the midst of the war. AU. Possible SLASH."

* * *

**This much improved version is thanks to my Beta Adages. She managed to a proofred copy to me several months ago, but I have failed at preforming my duty as a f-fic writer and posting quickly.**

* * *

In the corner, Fawkes shifted slightly on his perch where he slept with his head tucked under one wing. The scratching of a quill was the only audible sound other than his ruffling feathers in the Headmaster's cluttered office until Albus Dumbledore sighed and sat back in his ornate chair. A weary frown deepened the wrinkles on the old man's face, and if anyone had been present to witness the loss of his customary twinkle they would have seen how old and tired the wizard really was. That the war was not going well was a gross understatement. Voldemort's forces had grown, posing an immediate threat to the side of the Light. The Dark Lord was nearly prepared to face the side of the Light on the battlefield, and cease his guerrilla tactics. With every report that reached the headmaster's desk, the old man came a step closer to despair. There was no hope for the wizarding world. He was an old man and many years had passed since the time he had defeated Grindelwald, and Voldemort had more raw power than Gellert had ever claimed. No, Dumbledore had no chance of victory when set against such a powerful adversary. Despite the fact that Voldemort had been a shade at the time, the side of the Light had lost any chance of winning the day that Harry Potter, their professed savior, had disappeared fourteen years ago.

Dumbledore drew himself away from his melancholy pondering, forced himself to finish writing instructions to the Order, and ambled down to the Great Hall to dine. Supper was the same as it always was. The Gryffindors shot distrustful, wary glances at the green and silver table and the Slytherins sneered back. The Ravenclaws were all involved in intense discussions about the meaning of life, their Transfiguration homework, and one particularly interesting debate about draperies. The Hufflepuffs, trying not to attract attention from the Gryffindor pranksters or evil snakes, chatted quietly about classes and avoided mentioning anything that involved politics. Slowly the usual low thrum of noise in the large chamber trailed off as people turned to gaze in wonder at a dome of light that was slowly forming between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables, directly in middle of the Great Hall. The enchanted ceiling flickered above and the sky seemed to open up and spit out more flashing multicolored lights. The light show continued and students began to talk in hushed voices about what was causing such a bizarre, even for a magic school, occurrence. Most dismissed it as a simple prank, but others worried that You-Know-Who had infiltrated Hogwarts' wards and would kill them all.

All of the staff and many of the upperclassmen drew their wands and suspiciously watched as the light began to swirl and form four blurry figures, two female and two male shapes made entirely of swirling lights. Everyone present jumped, and two younger students fainted when a voice spoke as clearly as if the speaker was made of flesh and bone, not photons and twirling winds. "What magic is this? We 'twas two day's journey away, yet we have been inexplicably returned to our origin?" The soft feminine voice was puzzled, but held no panic.

"I knowest not Hel my dear, but perhaps Row doth. She hoards facts like a dragon hoards gold, but be careful or she may try to eat thee." This voice was like gravel, grating with controlled power and definitely male. He sounded fond of the first speaker, but slightly irked as if she always tried to have him answer all the abstract questions of existence.

A third voice chimed in, "Sal, must thou be sarcastic? It tis most unbecoming."

Low male laughter echoed across the Hall as the forth figure teased, "Since when have any of us had to worry about such trivialities? Sal is much more interested in his potions than any pretty face. He spends so many hours pondering whether to mix dragon claws and yarrow or if the dragon's scales would have better results he probable has no clue what a living dragon looks like."

"Woe unto me for not being so foolish as to face a dragon for sport. At least I know how to choose fights that I have a chance of winning, Ric. Even if I do spend more time than thee being productive," the second voice, Sal, replied, this time with a hard edge as if he had been offended more than the observers understood from the simple exchange.

"You need to learn how to take a joke when you are the butt of it Sal," scolded the one called Row. As they bantered, the shapes had slowly become more distinct. Four tall cloak-clad people were standing in the eye of a storm of magic. The owner of the first voice, Hel, had long brilliant red hair that glowed, and an hourglass figure that was defined by tight, tailored robes. She wore a black cloak with a brilliant canary yellow lining, and her posture indicated that she knew she looked good. Actually, all four of them stood that way. The other lady had jet black hair and wore a cloak of a deep brown with a startling blue lining. She too was pretty, but in a fiercer way. She looked like she was unapproachable, unattainable by any mere mortal. When she tilted her head in a certain way her face was almost hawk-like, very dissimilar to the redhead with the pretty heart-shaped face. The redhead man, Ric, was the tallest of the four, dressed in a garish red and gold cloak that made his hair appear to be on fire. Both men had a swimmer's build, and were well muscled. Sal, despite the fact that he was slightly shorter than Ric, was by no means short. He stood over six feet tall, wearing a deep emerald cloak that was so dark it almost appeared to be as black as his hair. He had an air of suppressed power like a panther possesses just an instant before it springs. The four made an impressive sight, all tall and lean with red and black hair and surrounded by a fading glow.

Suddenly the light fled upward into the ceiling and the chasm in the enchanted sky closed, abandoning the unexpected visitors to the awed stares of several hundred school children and staff. The Headmaster drew himself to his full height and heh-hemmed in a much more masculine manner than Dolores Umbridge ever had. When he had been granted the full attention of two of the four intruders (Row was slowly gauging the reactions of the students, and Sal was peering suspiciously at each teacher in turn), he arched one eyebrow in a silent query. Surprisingly, it was Sal, who had not yet glanced at Dumbledore, who answered the unasked question.

He gestured to the raven locked lady. "We art the Lady Rowena Ravenclaw, the Lord Godric Gryffindor, the Lady Helga Hufflepuff," he indicated both the redheads in turn and then placed his hand across his chest, "and I am Lord Salazar Slytherin. Who mayst thou be?"

Minerva McGonagall was the first to recover from the shock that this pronouncement caused. "I must inform you that the people that you are impersonating have been dead for over a thousand years. If this is your idea of a joke it is utterly idiotic."

Gryffindor bowed with a flourish of his cloak. "I assure thee, my good lady, thee art not the subject of a prank foul. My dear friend Salazar speaks naught but the truth; we art none other."

Severus Snape snorted. "You are claiming you four at a similar age to our older students, founded the greatest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world. The four of you look no older than twenty, so your claim to be the founders is preposterous. Do not think that your shenanigans will go overlooked."

The lady who claimed to be Helga Hufflepuff laughed scornfully. "And pray tell me good sirrah, who art thou to judge us? Tis only manners to give thy name in return. Doth thou hold thyself in such importance that thou believes we should knowest thee on sight though, as the lady who sits near thee claims, we are ov'r a thousand years separated from our time? Doth thou truly posses such arrogance to disregard our appearance through wards so strong as mundane? If thy do, thou art a fool."

"Easy Hel, no need to go on the defensive. T'would seem we hath returned to our own time. Perchance, we can dredge up some of our twentieth century speech." Row soothed in a sotto voice.

"If thou believes that thee recalls more than street slang and profanity after thirteen years removed from this millennium, then thou possesses a better memory than I," Sal hissed back. "And I feel vulnerable. I hath somehow lost my wand. We hath been surrounded, and I doubt any of thee are in possession of any of thy weapons. I do pray that my spare Olivander's hath not been removed from my chamber."

"We all art feeling rather helpless, Sal. Perhaps that tis why Hellgirl hath been so reserved in her defense of our honor." Row replied, still in a low undertone that went unheard by the rest of the hall.

Dumbledore cleared his throat a second time to interrupt the students' shocked conversation at the nerve of the four claiming to be the great Hogwarts four. This time he did speak, "If you would follow me to my office I am certain that we can ascertain the truth."

So, all the professors, the headmaster, and the four alleged founders proceeded through Hogwarts. Dumbledore cheerfully said the password, Peppermint Toads, and led the group up his revolving staircase. Just as the heavy wooden door swung shut a voice called out from one of the shelves along the wall. "Gryffindor, you rogue! Turn me back into my true form this instant! You dog-faced, lying, traitorous, unchivalrous, womanizing, backstabbing, lewd, idiotic beast. If you do not revert me to my human form, magic help me, I will do everything in my power to make your life miserable."

Gryffindor appeared startled by the attack. "Master Ernest, I assure thee that I shall be quite glad to return thee to thy true form. It is only proper, however, to inform thee that thy proper form in this time tis a pile of dust and bones. If thee wishes for me to reverse the charm that I hath placed upon thee, I shall of course oblige thee."

"You-you are a foul and evil wizard! You ruined my life, you forced me into a stale existence, and you were fraternizing with my daughter!" shout out the Sorting Hat, for it had been from that moth eaten cloth that the outraged cry had originated.

"I did no such thing! Well, erm, I did transfigure thee into a hat, and coerce thee into helping the school, but I never touched thy daughter. In fact she was the one who pursued me. Even after ten centuries hath passed thy still will not listen to reason. How thou art still so stubborn I knowest not. Good day, sirrah."

"You protest too much. If you did not sully my Lark's virtue then how did she end up pregnant?"

"I assume, good sirrah, that she ended up pregnant by using the same temptress techniques she attempted to capture me with. I could not hath fathered her child for I still am pure myself. If thyst doth not believe me then ask any present to cast the necessary spells to test me. I will not be held accountable whilst I stand blameless."

"Cast the spell. Your lies will be revealed for all to see."

"Sal, would thou do me the favor of casting the chaste revelio spell?" Godric asked.

"Certainly, my dear Ric, what else is a recluse like me good for?" Slytherin gestured with his hand and a faint white glow surrounded Godric, proving his virginity.

Griffindor glared at the worn hat. "Doth that prove my claim? If thou had allowed me time to explain instead of attacking me thou fate would hath been different. That thou did not hath the intellect and restraint to allow me to prove thy accusation to be groundless doth sadden me."

After much very formal apologizing by both wronged parties, the Hogwarts staff recovered from their shock enough to begin hurling questions at the quartet. After a very long conversation where very little information of any importance was exchanged, it was agreed that the four would spend the evening at Hogwarts. In the morning a less overwhelmed group could converse and not get sidetracked with discussions about the improvements in Muggle sweets, the fact that broomsticks no longer doomed the family name by being so uncomfortable to sit upon, or how minuscule the advances in the past one thousand years were in both Potions and Spell-Casting. So the group split up and agreed to meet the next morning over breakfast.

Before Dumbledore could instruct various members of his staff to escort the young men and women to the rarely used guest rooms, the time travelers had disappeared.

* * *

Hogwarts Head Boy Draco Malfoy collapsed onto his large four-poster bed in the seventh year Slytherin dormitory. After the unearthly visitors' display in the Great Hall, the teachers had abandoned him and the Mudblood Head Girl, Hermione Granger, to sate the students' curiosity and send them off to bed. As soon as they had finally managed to rid themselves of the excited crowd he had patrol duties where he caught at least a dozen students sneaking out to spy on the quartet. Then all the six and seventh year students had cornered him and demanded he tell them who the visitors were. When he had finally escaped their questioning it was well past midnight, and for the first time since the odd display in the Great Hall he was able to ponder the appearance of the four people who claimed to be the founders of Hogwarts.

He saw no reason to believe the outlandish tale of time travel, other than the sheer intensity of the magic present during their appearance. All the hair on the back of his neck had prickled, and he knew that anything that could have affected the spells cast on the enchanted ceiling would have had to been powerful. He had done a report on the spells that created long lasting illusions, like in the Great Hall, and Malfoy knew that it took a lot of magic to create such intricate illusions or alter them in any way. It was a well known fact that the founders had all been very powerful mages. Yet, it was also a well known fact that Godric Griffindor and Salazar Slytherin got along as well as any of the members of the rival houses for the past thousand years, and he had just watched the alleged pair good humorously teasing each other, and Lord Slytherin had not been at all standoffish. Also, the four were so young. Just as Snape had pointed out, they could not have done any of the things that the founders accomplished and still be that young. Merlin, they looked as if they were the same age as the students in his year.

No, they could not be the famous four founders of Hogwarts, but they had been involved in some serious magic and that made them people to watch. Draco Malfoy sighed and sat up to write a letter to his father reporting the incident. His father would like to hear it from him, and not have to rely on another's report of the phenomena.

* * *

At the same time, in her room in Gryffindor tower, similar thoughts were whizzing through the head of one Hermione Granger. She was trying to determine how the visitors had arrived in the Great Hall. According to Hogwarts A History, Apparition was impossible inside of Hogwarts due to complex wards, so they had not Apparated in. They had slowly become visible, so spells of invisibility and the less spectacular disillusionment charm were out. Hermione considered the way the sky had seemed to open up and spit them out. That may have been caused by the reflective nature of the illusion, because the real sky had broken open and caused the enchanted ceiling to reflect it. Or the more likely scenario was that the ceiling itself had split open and the enchantment had broken and reformed around the fracture. Both would have taken tremendous amounts of power, and the magic discharge from the four had been downright terrifying. This indicated that the four held tremendous power and their support could possibly decide the outcome of the war.

Hermione knew that her and her parents' lives rested on the Light winning the conflict. If You-Know-Who won, her life and future plans were forfeit. However, the four may not have been as powerful as she had assumed. The one that claimed to be Helga Hufflepuff had called out, "What magic is this?" right before the figures had become visible, and the others had been unable to answer her. Hermione knew from her short use of a Time-Turner in her third year that jumps in time longer than a day were impossible for a witch or wizard to initiate, but had sometimes occurred spontaneously. One wizard had claimed to travel back to the sacking of Troy, but experts had dismissed it as him drinking too much of a newly distilled variation of fire-whiskey. Maybe this was a similar case and the four were victims of wild magic.

Whether or not the four had caused the magic phenomena in the Great Hall, the event had caused many students to attempt to spy on the newcomers. Hermione was exhausted from her duty as Head Girl. There was no time to begin working on her Arithmancy homework as she had planned, and as exhaustion overtook her she indulged herself with the hope that the four would become powerful allies for the Light.

* * *

Salazar Slytherin swept away from the meeting with a heavy scowl on his face. Bloody timing, bloody wild magic. He had thought that the first temporal rift had been unique. He and his self-made family had just finished creating a safe and respectable place for themselves in the war-strewn world they had landed in. Hogwarts had been open and acting as a school and haven, but they had not had any time to enjoy what they had worked so hard to create. Everything good in life had been stolen in one fell act of wild magic. Well, perhaps not everything, Sal decided, gazing in wonder at the stones that guarded their finest creation. The thought that Hogwarts had lasted almost unchanged for over a hundred decades caused his grim expression to completely relax.

As he walked toward his private room near the Slytherin common room, he thought back on the meeting earlier in the Headmaster's office. The four had manipulated the conversation away from personal questions - a tactic that had been successful many times prior during Wizard Council meetings and formal parties where the local witches and wizards were too curious. He made a note to himself to compliment Hel on her excellent diversionary technique of starting the old man talking about food, candy in particular. The fact that Hel could talk for hours about cuisine did not surprise him, as she had always been an avid culinary student, but her noticing the bowl of sherbet lemons and the fact that the best warded cabinet in the office was filled with other sweets did. As soon as he entered his quarters Slytherin opened up a hidden wall safe and drew out his spare wand. He relaxed for the first time since the wild magic had uprooted him, weaponless, from the past and deposited him in the middle of a large group of strange people.

When he finished taking stock of the condition of his room, his scowl returned. He would not sleep tonight. Some of his potion ingredients, even with the powerful preservation spells he had cast, were ruined. He would have to begin plotting the best way to discover the current political social situation and benefit from it. At least Ric's folly of turning Ernest into a hat had paid off. There had been no more questions about the validity of their identities after he had cussed at Ric. He did regret being unable to transfigure Ernest back into his human form back in the 990's, but the fact that they had still been working on a counter curse when the wild magic had deposited them in the year 1996 consoled him somewhat.


	2. Some Insight

A tiny figure, hunched in an attempt to make itself appear even smaller, darted out of the path of a stumbling man. It darted forward out of the way of a stampeding rider-less horse, and frantically searched for a place to hide from the ruckus. It stumbled and fell when a large group of men rushed past, uncaring of anything but what they were fleeing from and possible safety ahead. It lifted itself from the mud and continued on at a more sedate pace.

The child, for that was what the being was, pressed on even with a twisted ankle. Smoke clouded the child's already poor eyes and caught in the child's throat. The smell of smoke was almost completely overwhelmed by the acidic, coppery smell of blood and severed flesh. Trumpets blaring and people's dying screams faded to background noise in the general confusion. Light flashed from the fires that burned the thatch village roofs, from flying spells, off of armor and swords. Light flashed again.

There. There, just ahead and a little to the right. Salvation. His friends. His new family. The child's joy was short lived. A monstrous shape was bearing down on them, the armor-plated being that would unwittingly destroy the child's heart, the child's solace. It was uncaring of the fate of the lives it was about to destroy. As the sword whistled down it was the only noise the child heard, despite the battle. The child drew upon his power, his will, his soul and put his everything into saving his family, but his magic did not answer. The sword fell, and when he watched helplessly as they died it felt as if his heart had been torn out, his soul shredded.

"Nnnoooooo!" Sal sat up breathing deeply, sweat pooling on his forehead. That was not what had happened. Hel, Row, and Ric were all still alive and well. His magic had not failed him when he was five and they had fallen into the middle of the largest battle between wizards and mundanes in history. Nor had it failed him the time when he was fifteen and a dark wizard had tried killing all of them. His magic, no – he, Salazar Slytherin, had never failed his friends, and just because they lacked the usual freedom they had enjoyed since they were four years old and first met did not mean that he should worry about events long past. He snorted. Events very long past, the battle that he had dreamed of had happened more than one thousand years ago, so there was no reason for him to dwell on the memories.

He washed all traces of the nightmare off his body in the shower. The shower was a wonderful invention, as was plumbing; it meant no more cold baths in the Great Lake. If he was not such a terrible poet he would write an ode to the joys of hot running water. He leaned his head against the tiled wall and thought about the predicament the four had landed in. The second meeting with the Dumbledore had not gone well. Due to their youth and the fact that they had not yet taken standardized Ministry tests, the four had been offered a place as students. At seventeen the four were old enough to be considered adults in the wizarding world, so the Headmaster could not force them to accept. Agreeing to the offer had seemed like a good idea at the time.

However, problems had arisen almost instantaneously, because the current Ministry of Magic had way too much say in the running of Hogwarts. A thousand years ago the four founders had prevented the Wizards' Council from doing the same, but it seemed that Heads since had not been so resourceful. There was no way for the four to gauge how far the outside world had progressed or how much of a threat this current Dark Lord Voldemort really posed. They could not slip out and talk to the goblins about their financial status. Instead, they had to attend class.

The only discipline that had evolved to be unrecognizable was History. That class was taught by one of Godric's top history students, but he was a ghost. It was an outrage, the students were not learning anything about what being a wizard meant, and if Binns had been teaching for over seven hundred years most of Hogwarts' alumni had not learned wizarding history, only one part of it. No matter how important knowing about other races was, history should not solely focus on goblin history. Salazar had taken to charming Potions journals to look like the textbook of whatever class he was attending. He had Rowena to update him on any new spells and the past thousand years of Muggle and magical history. Salazar was itching to go and see what books were available on battle magic. Hogwarts had never been a school of warcraft, so it was a good thing that the library did not hold many new tomes on defencive and offensive spells. Yet, it was a passion of both Salazar and Godric and they were having to content themselves with very limited resources.

Furthermore, students were not permitted to leave school grounds, and sitting through classes that they had once taught was tedious. The quartet had adapted to many situations, but they had never been forced to suffer boredom. They had survived seventeen years of - shit! - Row was only sixteen. It was a good thing that everyone believed that she was the same age as the rest of them. The staff were treating her like she was of age. If the Ministry was, as Salazar suspected, simply an evolved form of the ancient Wizards' Council then it probably still held the same corruption and bigotry that existed in the past, and Salazar did not trust the members to not harm her for their own gain. Having a guardian assigned to a witch that had been supporting herself since she was able to walk would be foolish. Row being assigned a guardian, after all she had lived through, would be insulting.

He could not even legally challenge the lot of them to a duel to the death. Row had mentioned something about an International Ban on Dueling which was codswallop in Sal's opinion, but he had not been around during the time of the ban so he could not object to it being enacted. He would have to study the law to see if there were any situations where he could legally defend his, and his family's, honor. And he would not tell Godric about any loophole, because damn that man was always getting into enough fights without encouragement. However, he would tell Hel; he had to spend a week in the Hospital Wing last time she had been irked at him. Yes, he would definitely tell Hellgirl.

Breakfast was odd. Eating in the Great Hall among hundreds of chatty children was routine. The questions both intellectual and insulting were expected, and had been asked by students in the 990's. Salazar expected there to be stares and whispered conversations as he passed, and they did not truly bother him. Being separated from Row, Hel, and Ric did. The four had always eaten together, and he missed it. The icy blue gaze of the current Headmaster did not help Salazar settle. He could have sworn he had felt something like a tentacle brush against his mind the first day they had met. The quartet had studied some of the newly created branch of mind magic in the past, but Sal had a very difficult time mastering the simplest exercise of "sweepen yer problims ot of yer mind" as the manuscript had suggested. Salazar had been a natural at the opposite, the "slipin threw the mind of anoter threw ther ken". He made a note to himself to research modern mind magics and master the art.

Salazar poked at his runny eggs and glanced up past the empty seats on either side of him to Godric. Ric was shaking the entire hall with his boisterous laughter, and enjoying himself among the Gryffs. In fact, eating away from his friends might have been the reason he was uneasy. All of them were immersed in discussion with the students, but every time Salazar had tried to start a conversation he got fearful sideways glances that made him snappy and irritable. Once a third year Gryffindor he had tried to ask about the creatures in the Lake had squeaked at him, dropped her bags and fled. It was like having everyone think he was an insane dark wizard intent on conquering the world. Fear twisted in Salazar's gut. Maybe his friends were going to abandon him to save themselves the hassle of being acquainted with someone who was so feared. Maybe they would come to their senses and live their own lives. No. He had to stop thinking like that. He had thought that he had recovered from periods of depression and self doubt years ago. It was just the sideways looks getting to him. His friends would never abandon him; they were _family_.

A whispered conversation had risen in volume, and about half of the seventh year class standing immediately drew the attention of the entire hall. Salazar had been eyeing the group since they sat down and knew that they had been discussing the benefits of approaching him. He was surprised that it had taken them so long to decide what the best option was. Perhaps the decision had been made by the arrival of the morning post, and either a letter from home or something in the news. It was likely not anything of note in the paper, Salazar decided, because he had scanned through his copy of the rag and found nothing of interest. The lack of real news was one thing that grated, and Salazar was beginning to feel a pressing need to find out what was happening outside the school grounds.

The seventh years had stopped arguing and now were approaching him with false bravado. None of them were having much success hiding their fear except the leader of the small gang. Draco . . . What was his last name again? Something foreign. Yes it was something French. Salazar had been surprised at the diversity in the wizarding world, because it had not been less monotone in the past. Bad Faith. Malfoy. Draco Malfoy hid his fear well, but it still shone through his eyes. It surprised Salazar, and when he talked to Hel she agreed that it surprised her as well, how immature the students were. Even the legal adults were children compared to first years entering Hogwarts when Salazar taught. Perhaps it was the fact that England of the past was fraught with danger. Foreign invaders and fearful Muggles left many of the students orphaned and forced them to grow up quickly.

The students of this time were truly children. Not for the first time Salazar regretted sorting them by character, because as the group stood in a loose semicircle, none of them were brave enough to speak. He could use a lion or two among his serpents, though he had hoped to find a true dragon: cunning and bold. Salazar lifted one eyebrow, a gesture that had taken him four hours practicing over a reflective pond to perfect, and waited a little longer. The students shuffled their feet and avoided his gaze. Right before Salazar was about to speak, the gang's leader Malfoy spoke.

"Merlin! The lot of you are pathetic! Lord Slytherin, we came over to invite you to dine with us. If you don't want to, that's alright as well. But we thought it was impolite to force you to dine alone. Please excuse our discourtesy in not asking earlier, sir."

"T'would be," Salazar stopped to remind himself to speak in modern English. The language potion he had brewed the night after arriving would help him with the proper diction, but only if he remembered to use the knowledge the potion granted him. "I would be delighted to join you for what remains of breakfast." Salazar saw his friends silently questioning him across the hall, and he gave each of them a reassuring glace while he followed the seventh year snakes toward their usual seats.

When they had sat down a brown haired girl with an upturned nose asked, "Have you been enjoying class?" Salazar was hard pressed not to laugh at their opening conversation topic.

He let a wry smile cover his face. "I am finding it difficult to immerse myself in classes I have instructed. The last time I sat in a classroom was when I was assisting Godric in educating his first year Defense class on the affects of the Sponge-Knees curse and the Jelly-Legs Jinx."

"We weren't ever taught those in class. What do they do?" The girl again.

Salazar was hard pressed not to laugh, but others were not so polite. Still snickering, a tall black boy blurted out between deep breaths, "They do what the names say they do. And they are basic jinxes anyone who made passed the O.W.L.s in Defense would know. I guess that shows why you didn't get an O.W.L. in Defense." He paused. "That reminds me of something I wanted to ask. The Ministry standardized tests were not created until after the Ministry, so how did you decide what to teach?"

Salazar gave an internal sigh, more questions. "Row first proposed the idea of forming a haven for magical learning after the Great Battle of 985, and it evolved over time. We spent much of our spare time discussing what we would teach and how we would teach while traveling in search of instruction in various magic disciplines. We all knew what we wanted to teach before we even considered building Hogwarts."

"I was awarded an O in History of Magic, and that battle was never mentioned. What exactly happened at the Battle of 985?" the same unnamed boy asked.

Salazar frowned. "Binns has been worse for wizard kind than I first assumed." He was about to start speaking again, but paused. "What was your name again? I am certain that I have not heard it mentioned."

"He's Zabini, Blaise," the girl who had failed Defense offered with what she must have considered a winning smile. "And I'm Pansy Parkinson."

Salazar nodded in thanks and continued speaking, "Zabini, I regret to inform you that you have been a victim of a travesty in the educational system of Britain. The Great Battle of 985 was the deciding point for wizarding kind; it changed many people's minds and made them think that permanently separating ourselves from Muggles and their lives was the best option. It was a turning point in history and the reason the Wizards' Council cited for seceding from the Muggle world. It was also the last time that the wizarding district was attacked by mundanes, and was when we created Diagon Alley. Anyone looking can find a detailed description in the journal of Queen Maeve which I know is still in sitting in the archives, since I just used it yesterday to reference a portion of a spell formula."

"She's got a chocolate frog." One of the two trollish bodyguards grunted. "You knew 'er?"

Flashback

The child stood with his hands still outstretched toward his friends. The fires burning around them were still burning, the dying were still screaming, but his friends were safe. He gazed stupidly at the now mangled body of the armored assailant. He was broken out of his daze by a kind voice asking, "Son, hath thou been injured?"

He startled when a gentle hand squeezed his shoulder and it withdrew. He turned and blinked up at the lady dressed in fine clothes despite the fact that she was standing in the middle of a war zone. "Son, t'was an impressive display of power you just gave. And ye without a wand."

"Wand?" He asked unintelligently, not quite understanding her speech.

The next time she spoke he forced himself to understand the same way he had made the sword not kill his friends. "Little one, doth thy not know of thy gift? Thy gift of magic."

"Ya mean when my pals and me make stuff happen with our minds."

She frowned at him in incomprehension, and cast a translation charm before asking him to repeat himself. "Precisely that, child. Ye say that all of thee hath the power." He nodded at her.

"Doth thou wish to learn to use thy gift, children?" The question was directed at all four of them, because Row, Hel, and Ric had cautiously approached while the two had talked.

The four exchanged wary glances, and indicated that yes they would like to learn. "We shall journey away from this awful scene, and proceed to my abode. Thou mayst call me Madame Queen or Madame Maeve. What doth thy call thyselves?"

"I am Charzar, these are my friends," he paused to allow the warmth that still spread through him at that word to pass, "Raven, ah Goodric, and Helgirl."

"Well young Salazar, Rowena, Godric, and Helga, if thy would follow me."

Flashback

Salazar only answered the boy's grunted question with, "She was an amazing woman."

Zabini leered at him. "So you fucked her."

"No! Gods no, she was much too old for me. She taught me many spells and potions. Even some of the more mundane remedies that Muggle medics used at the time. We had a purely platonic relationship, and it is an assault on her honor to imply otherwise."

Malfoy leaned across the table and spoke for the first time since the beginning of the conversation. "So you are not that old? Right? You don't look much older than the rest of us, and I have a difficult time believing you are much older."

"I do not know how old you are, but I will reach my eighteenth year before the eighth moon of this year."

"But, that makes you younger than me and most of the seventh year students! You can't have actually taught at such a young age it is impossible!"

"Many children are spoilt and coddled, and take years to grow up. I had learnt most of the spells that are taught here by the time I was seven. That was what was normally expected of wizarding children of that time."

"How do you speak so clearly?" Parkinson blurted out during the silence that followed.

"I brewed a complete translation potion."

Malfoy started, "You couldn't have. The potion contains an ingredient that is a class A non-tradable item and from a highly poisonous snake. The venom cannot be bought anywhere. I wanted to take it instead of sitting through hours of Latin, but my father said it was impossible."

"You are referring to the titillated Basilisk venom, correct? I am a Parselmouth so I acquired the venom the last time I met a Basilisk, and some of my more volatile ingredients are still usable, like the venom I used to make the potion. Perhaps, I can write up a recipe for general use. I would have to do a few experiments with owl feathers and thestral hair, but I don't have time to do that now."

"Oh, yes of course, Parselmouth, I had forgotten." Malfoy blinked twice and looked thoughtful for a moment. "I could help." The blond boy tried to not appear too excited. "Anything to get out of sitting for an hour listening to Mr. Jenkins, my language tutor, drone on and on." Before Salazar could reply, the late bell rung and all the seventh years sitting around him darted off to classes they were already late for.


	3. Pause

When Salazar exited the Great Hall, he walked over to his three friends. Rowena looked murderous. When he got close enough, Salazar could hear her mumbling a stream of profanities.

When Row spotted him approaching she spun and glared at him. "This situation is ridiculous! The Professors are ridiculously controlling! We are being treated like children! I only have transfigured robes to wear, and those itch! We have to do something about it. We have to get out of this restrictive atmosphere for a while. We should go shopping. Darn idiots..."

Sal looked at the two others who were failing to hide their amusement at Row's behavior, and asked, "Why is she in such a snit?"

Ric grinned. "Row got detention."

She sighed and stopped muttering to explain, "I did not go to class this morning because I was researching, and I got detention! Really, who gives students detention for learning?!"

"You. You, little Miss Perfect, got detention," Salazar said incredulously between guffaws. After a few minutes of Rowena glaring he stopped laughing. "Was that an invitation to accompany you all to Diagon Alley? If it was an invitation and not you merely blowing off steam, I would love to accompany you." So off the four went to London town. Since the third day the quartet had been in 1996, Salazar had been sneaking out with raw meat from the kitchens and luring the thestrals in. Each time he would collect hairs from the creatures to use in potions, so they each easily cast a disillusionment charm, mounted a thestral, and requested to go to Gringotts Bank.

As they stood in the line for the teller, the friends agreed to let Rowena go first. They hoped that her witnessing the usually stoic goblin's face contort with shock might help bring her out of her funk. The sight did cheer her up immensely. When it was finally Salazar's turn, he was disappointed to find an expressionless goblin manning the desk. Sal handed over his bank key without being prompted, and reflected for a moment on how grateful he was that he had left it in his chambers with his spare wand while the goblin examined the key.

"I would also like a complete list of my current holdings and investments. I will of course pay the necessary transaction fees."

"Very well." The teller made a note in a book. "Griphook will escort you to the ritual room."

Salazar sighed at his own paranoia. He was the only one of the four who had insisted on a blood ward on his vault. He slit his palm with barely a wince and sat and talked to Griphook about the magical economy while they waited for the results. Salazar was not pleased with the answers he was given about the current state of affairs. It would be an understatement to say that the country was in shambles. Stores were closing all across Britain, when the owners disappeared either overseas or as victims of the current Dark Lord.

When the results were processed and a piece of parchment appeared in the place of the blood, Sal got to witness the sight he had missed earlier, a gob-smacked goblin.

"You're Harry Potter?!"

"Um, yes, that is my given name."

"And you are also Salazar Slytherin?"

"I have used that name since I was five. I have not been called by my birth name in years. I don't understand how my given name is so important."

"You have never heard the story of the first fall of You-Know-Who. Where have you been living all your life to not know the story?"

"Well I'd say I've obviously been living in the past, but of course I have read the story. It is in all the modern history books. I simply assumed that since both Harry and Potter are fairly common names that we were different people."

"No you are The-Boy-Who-Lived, the blood test indicates that you are the Head of the Potter line, which would make you the famous Harry Potter."

"Damn." Salazar sighed. "Isn't this fellow, Voldemort, claiming to be my heir? Has he tried to access my vault? Also, where can I find information on the International Ban on Dueling, so I can determine if I am legally permitted to defend my family's honor? Because there is very little information in the Hogwarts library."

After Griphook had assured him that You-Know-Who had not requested nor been granted access to his vault and Salazar had made a large withdrawal, Salazar headed outside to find the other founders. He was uncharacteristically withdrawn as they shopped for new clothes for Row. He cheered up a little in Flourish and Botts searching for new potion journals and tomes on Defense against the Dark Arts. He chatted with Helga about the stupidity of having all the new developments in both herbology and potions strewn through hundreds of short books. There were no real encyclopedias of recent findings; only individually published data. While purchasing the huge stack of books he had gathered, Salazar spotted the books on display at the counter, The Boy Who Lived:Unweaving the Truths from the Lies and A Study on the Legend Harry Potter. After shrinking his books he fell silent again.

His friends noticed his mood and tried to cheer him up by dragging him into a bookshop in Knockturn Alley that sold books on the Dark Arts. There effort to cheer him up only made Sal feel guilty for not immediately sharing the news. He just needed some time to think about the fame that came with the name Harry Potter. As he watched a frightened lady scuttle by, not daring to even look down the practically deserted Knockturn Alley, it hit him like a mule had just kicked him and his head reeled with the implications. They would all expect him to go in and act like a hero. They would expect him to go in and execute the current Dark Lord with Light magic. These witches and wizards, unlike those from the past, feared anything that seemed dark. He tried to enjoy searching through the store for useful texts, but he could not shake the thought that the Wizards' Council had made the wrong decision. That he had made the wrong decision, advocating the complete ostracization of anything Muggle. He had risked losing his friends when he and Godric fought over the issue of seceding, and it had been a pointless campaign. The world he loved and had risked so much to preserve was slowly strangling itself.

Salazar shook himself out of his state and decided to enjoy the day with his friends and worry about all that later. As they quartet were walking back toward the thestrals, Helga spotted a pet shop and dragged them all inside with her. When Godric and Rowena had stopped oohing and ahing at the puffskeins, they turned to find Salazar minutely examining the owls.

"Why would you need an owl, it is easy enough to borrow one from the school?" Godric asked.

"Potion ingredients."

Helga gasped, "You don't plan on killing it do you?"

"No, of course I don't. I want to try using different feathers to see which are the best for language potions."

"You have not found a lab assistant yet, have you?" Godric asked. "There is one girl, Granger, who might be good at the job. She is methodical and does not spend too much time swooning over the boys like some of the girls in the upper years do."

Salazar nodded. "Tell her to approach me, I could use some help in the lab. What about this one?" He gestured to a snowy owl. "I think she has the best type of feathers, but I can't be certain without testing." He carried her to the checkout desk on his wrist. "And she does not seem to be difficult to work with. Rowena can you come up with an appropriate name for her, you do recall what a disaster it was last time I tried to name a bird."

"Yes, she would probably end up with a name like Snowy if I let you name her. Hmm. How about Hedwig?"

Later, much later that evening (after returning to Hogwarts, after being screeched at by McGonagall for running off, and after being lectured on how dangerous the stunt they had pulled was with You-Know-Who alive) Salazar cornered Godric before he could return his purchases to his room. At being lectured, none of the four had even batted an eyelash. None of them had truly cared what the current Hogwarts staff thought about them. The first and likely only time they would ever see Salazar vulnerable, caring what someone else thought, and showing that he cared would be now. The argument had been very public, and just because it had happened a thousand years ago was no reason not to give a public apology. Salazar knew that this sort of admittance would be best done immediately, and he did not want to try and navigate all the way to Godric's rooms to talk.

He took a deep breath, "Ric about the muggle-wizard relationship conflict, all of it, well youwereright, and imsorry, and -"

"Shit Sal, I was going to say the same thing to you. I was just working up the nerve to listen to you gloat. The wizarding population is tiny it would be swallowed whole by any nut job magic haters. There would be no magic world if the Council hadn't voted against me."

"No, wizards would not have disappeared. They would be more open-minded and less prejudiced. If we had found a compromise like you suggested, the mixed cultures would have been good for the world. The people are isolated from reality and inbreeding is killing magic quicker than Muggles would have been capable of. I let my own prejudice cloud my judgment."

"No, no, no, you did the right thing. You're the smart one. I should not have argued against you. It was stupid of me to destroy our usual unbeatable front and allow one argument to almost destroy our political power. I know why you don't like Muggles and should have trusted your judgment."

"But Godric, you were right. If -"

Helga's wry tone cut Sal off. "Boys, can't you ever apologize gracefully? Stop arguing over trivialities, hug, and go to sleep."

"Why would I want to hug Sal? Last time I tried to hug him it was like hugging an angry dragon." Even as he spoke Godric was approaching Salazar cautiously, like he might get mauled.

"Calling that a hug is like calling a Chimaera a Knarl."

Godric reached out. "It wasn't that terrible."

"You ran across the room and tried to tackle me, and then I almost killed you."

"T'was an accident 'n you would never kill me."

They drew apart grinning and punching each other. "Really sorry that we fought, bro."

Rowena groaned and stage whispered to Helga, "They are going to be impossible to be around for the next week. Bloody boys."

An arid voice cut through the beginnings of the boys' protests. "If you are done with this heart-wrenching display of idiocy, perhaps you will finally return to the dorms. It is well past curfew."

Helga gave Snape her most winning smile. "I doubt the proper term for the end of the argument that likely sparked all rumors of Salazar's leaving Hogwarts would be a 'heart-wrenching display of idiocy'. That was a formal declaration of a political alliance between two old friends, despite how it may have appeared to the uninformed observer."

"Nevertheless, it is late and I have no time to listen to brats pretending to know about politics. None of you are old enough to be considered old anything, much less old friends. Next time know that a public corridor is no place for such a private conversation between . . . friends."

Salazar let out a low hiss that had Snape taking a step in unconscious retreat. "Potions Master Snape, I will thank you for not insulting my friends or myself in such a manner ever again. My apology was public because the fight was public. We were resolving a topic that we had argued about during a meeting of the Wizards' Council. The magic bond that once formed the Council has not dissolved over time and it demands that matters such as this be solved out in the open to deter corruption and deceit among councilmen such as Godric and I. We grew up in an age that a childhood was ended when an individual takes on a certain level of responsibility, and by those standards the only child in this hallway is you. So if you will allow us to pass, we will all retire to our private suites." And Salazar swept off, completely forgetting that he had planned to tell his friends about the entire Harry Potter business.

Salazar regretted that oversight the next morning when he picked up his copy of the Daily Prophet and came face to face with himself. The headlines blared:

Boy-Who-Lived, Lives On!

Lines from the article jumped out at Salazar. "An inside source at Gringotts reported that the Potter family vault was unsealed and visited for the first time in nearly twenty years yesterday." "One question remains unanswered: where has Harry Potter been all these years?" "We still must wonder how he was abducted through such strong defensive wards."

Malfoy leaned across the table and sneered, "So Harry Potter pretending to be the great Lord Slytherin. I had my doubts about you from the beginning. Did you really think you could get away with it?"

Salazar glared back at him for a minute, thinking frantically of the best way to handle the information leak. By the time he decided how to handle the situation the entire hall had either read the article or had its contents dictated to them by their friends. So when he stood up everyone looked at him and whispered to their housemates. Salazar waited for the talk to die down and spoke.

"I know many of you are wondering about the validity of this morning's headlines. It is true. It is true, but because I was never interviewed many of the facts are missing. So if you will allow me I will tell my own tale. When I was four I ran away from my relatives' house. I was not kidnapped at age six like many people believe, and I must say taking two years to discover a famous wizarding child was missing is not an impressive feat. Before my guardian's blunder was realized by the wizarding world, I had met my three best friends on the streets of London. In order to hide our existence from the Muggle authorities we came up with names for ourselves. Those names started out as childhood nicknames, but when we ended up in the past that was what we called ourselves. In fact, neither Godric nor Helga know their birth name. I must point out that at this time, none of us had even heard of the wizarding world or wand-using magic folk. We simply were trying to survive.

"After more than a year of roaming the streets of modern London we were deposited by a time vortex in the year 986 in the center of a battle between Muggles and magic users. We found ourselves under the care of Madame Queen Maeve and learned magic in a little less than the average time for the age. In time we knew everything our teacher did and traveled in search of more knowledge. When I was thirteen, we began to build Hogwarts castle. The school opened as a haven for magical children in a time of turmoil and conflict between the magic and mundane communities and the building itself was still in construction.

"Once the school was running to our satisfaction, Godric and myself accepted seats on the Wizards' Council of the time. The first time that we felt confident leaving the school unattended, the four of us decided to journey south to assist with the removal of the twin alleys from the Muggle world. On that journey we found ourselves standing in the very building we had built, but in a different time. We arrived back twelve years after our last foray in this millennium."

Malfoy was the first to recover from the shock that had claimed the hall and sneered, "If any of your outlandish tales are true, you hold no real claim to the title Lord."

Salazar examined his fingernails. "We have the right to our titles. Hogwarts lies on a very large tract of land and to own that much land a thousand years ago was the way a person became a lord or lady. Both Godric and I are doubly capable of claiming the title, because everyone on the Wizards' Council was granted a title.

"We are the lords and ladies of Hogwarts. Godric and I are also the Lords of the Council, and each headed one of the committees that formed the organization."

"If yer really Slytherin, why don't ya prove it and talk to a snake? Everyone knows Slytherin was a Parselmouth an' the Potters never were," someone, safe in their anonymity, taunted from across the hall.

Salazar drew his wand and cast Serpensortia, summoning a large python. Without Salazar saying a word, the serpent crawled up his leg and curled around his arm. Salazar began to stroke the snake and it gave out a hiss of pleasure. He looked across the room in the direction of the voice. "Does that answer your question?"

He then deftly banished the snake, and then, lacking some of his usual fluidity of movement, swept an elegant bow and strode out of the room. Rowena, Helga, and Godric slipped out after him before the rest of the school could recover from their shock.

They quietly made their way into the Forbidden Forest and settled around an ancient Unicorn pool deep in the woods. It was a brightly lit glade that they had stumbled upon while traveling across the country in search of knowledge. It was the clearing, not the nearby small village of Hogsmeade as many modern historians believed, that had led them to choose the site to construct the school. Often the quartet came to this spot to discuss personal business they did not wish to share. The calming atmosphere soothed the soul and prevented their emotions from overcoming their rational minds. It was not a place for harsh words, or violent outbursts.

Salazar waited patiently for someone else to begin. Eventually Rowena turned toward him and began to chastize him, but it was not about what he thought she would be annoyed about. "Salazar Slytherin, did I not tell you that in this society, speaking to a snake is a criminal offense? The Ministry could drag you off to that awful Dementor-filled jail for the stunt you pulled in there! I should leave you to do your own research and not tell you a damn thing! In fact, I don't think I'll tell you anything about how the modern Wizengamot operates and let you rot in a cell."

"Row, sis, I always listen to you. I promise that I won't go to prison for anything I said or did so far today. If I am accused of talking to a snake, not one of those witnesses can prove it under any sort of truth serum or spell. I said not a word in Parseltongue at any time today. And all anyone needs to do is check my wand to see that I have used no of the so called 'Dark magic' at any point in the last thousand years."

"Oh. Erm. Sorry for snapping at you then. I thought you used Parseltongue, but was I too far away to hear you and should not have jumped on you like that… How did you get the snake to obey you?"

"Mild compulsion spell."

"Compulsion spells are considered dark magic! You could get s-"

"Rowena," Sal gently cut her off, "It was a wandless spell. I did listen when you listed all forms of magic currently considered dark and have not preformed any of them with my wand."

"Shit. I did it again, didn't I? I should learn to trust you to take care of yourself, you have never been the type of person to fall into such a trap. But I've been worried about how you are handling all the stress of being shunned by most of the school, and I shouldn't mother you, but."

"It's, fine Row. I do appreciate it, but you have to remember I only care for the good opinion of three people in the world and they are all sitting next to me."

The silence stretched on for a long while after Salazar's admittance. The sun slowly rose in the sky and glittered off the water. A noise drew the attention of the seated group. They turned and watched as several yearling unicorns exited from the foliage, and stooped to drink. They frolicked and danced in the carefree way all young creatures do. Eventually, a noise too quiet for the humans to hear drew the small herd away.

When the foals had disappeared into the shadowed woods Salazar tentatively brought up something that had confused him about Rowena's reaction to that morning's scene. "None of you seemed… erm, shocked at my identity. Why aren't you angry for me not telling you?"

"It didn't really matter, and was not completely unexpected you being the Harry Potter. Remember, you told us your name the first day we met. So, why would we be surprised?" Godric said.

"So you knew. You knew and did not tell me. I could have avoided stressing over your reactions, an-"

Helga smiled sweetly as she cut him off mid-word. "We knew as much as you did. You were dreadfully introspective yesterday, and must not have had time to say anything. We don't blame you, and we did not know any more than you did."

Salazar exhaled. "Oh. Sorry, then."

Godric gave him a fleeting glance. "Yeah."

Salazar's expression did not change, but his voice lifted and sounded happier. "Yeah."

Use: Doesn't really make sense in context, but I wasn't sure what you actually meant; 'our own names', maybe?

(There are some '' things that are all up to you to keep/change.)


End file.
